Operation Meteor: The Untold Stories
by Ironic-Kiwi
Summary: A series of short stories which take place between the Gundam Wing episodes, describing what may have happened to the characters in their "off screen" time.
1. Sweet Revenge

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all related characters are property of Hajime Yatate, Sotsu Agency and Sunrise.

Setting: This story takes place between episodes 4 and 5

Operation #01: Sweet Revenge  
March 13, 2005 

Duo watched with helpless rage as the guy he had worked so hard to free from the military hospital flew off in his repaired Gundam. Repaired with Deathscythe's parts! He balled his fists in impotent fury and glared ineffectually after the quickly receding shadow of the white mobile suit.

"I do hope you have some scheme for getting even, Duo," Howard said, walking up behind the braided teen and following his gaze after the small dot on the horizon.

"Of course," Duo straightened and flipped his braid noncholantly, anger at the guy's betrayal already receding as he began to form a plan for revenge against the steel-eyed boy.

Howard grinned. As someone who had been on the recieving end of Duo's pranks a time or two, he knew that the silent boy was in for a dirty surprise, and that he would be reminded of his error in judgment for many months to come.

Remembering his original reason for joining Duo on the deck, Howard spoke again: "I'll order replacement parts for your Gundam," he informed the boy, who was now staring at the horizon with a contemplative expression on his face. "I'll make sure they're here in about 24 hours, and we'll have you fixed up a little while after that."

"Excellent," Duo smirked. "That's plenty of time to devise the perfect revenge." So saying, he turned swiftly and stalked back into the hanger. Returning to the barracks, he seated himself at his laptop and got to work.

Mentally cataloguing all the various parts that had been stolen from Deathscythe, Duo narrowed his choices down to the two contraband parts which had a direct effect on the pilot's view of the area around him. If his outstandingly good luck was still with him, the other boy wouldn't have had time to reset the functions of those particular computers, and he could sneak in a back door to plant his virus.

Writing the virus itself was the easy part. Implanting it into a relevant computer was more difficult. And much more fun. He had the code for the virus written out and perfected in less than an hour. Really, the only limit was his imagination, and it couldn't be denied that his was quite active. He smirked to himself as he wondered how the stoic, silent boy would react to the twirling Deathscythe gifs and the horribly annoying, upbeat background music which was intended to take over the processor which controlled the visual input relayed to the screens within the Gundam cockpit. He snickered to himself as he imagined various reactions, each more hilarious than the last.

Packing up all the loose bits of coding into one folder, Duo set his newest creation aside and turned his attention to locating and hacking into one of his former computers. Discovering its whereabouts didn't take long. Finding out what condition the computers were in took a little longer, however. He might be loud and obnoxious in person and in open battle, but he knew there were few who could match his skill at silent subterfuge. He set his hacking program to find out the status of both computers, then leaned back to watch it process - he'd set a little animated gif of Deathscythe in one corner of the window, and it gave him the outline of what was going on within the program - describing in a series of cute, animated movements what the detailed code to its right said.

At the moment, the gif was making little slashing motions with its scythe, which meant the program was in its initial hacking stage. Every once in a while, the slashing motions would stop and the gif would sweep from side to side in a small path, which ment that it had come across a dead end or a non-useful avenue, and was now searching for a different opening. A quick glance at the scrolling code told Duo exactly what the problem was, and whether he needed to manually redirect the program if there was a threat of detection, or if it was safe to continue proceeding. In each of the limited cases the gif alerted him to a possible problem, it turned out to be a simple dead end within the system. It appeared as if his part thief wasn't even using the computer at the moment, which was even better for him.

After about five minutes of slashing and sliding, the gif thumped the end of its little scythe on the virtual ground and made a victory gesture with its left hand, signaling successful penetration. Duo grinned and wiggled his fingers in anticipation over the keyboard, then set about implanting his latest brainchild where it couldn't help but make itself noticed. Once it was embedded securely, Duo swiftly withdrew his program and wiped all traces of his entry into the system.

Smiling happily at the little Deathscythe gif, which had begun to frolic about its allotted box of 200 pixels to signal a successful implant, Duo shut off his laptop, stood, and stretched. Now it was only a matter of time before his revenge extracted itself, and in the mean time, he was ready for a shower.

Heero ran expert fingers over the controls in his Gundam's cockpit. He'd stopped briefly after his flight from Duo's refuge to acquire some food, and that had taken some time, as he'd had to hide Wing several miles from his intended destination, and walk the rest of the way on foot. Now the system was lighting up about him as it started up, making all the usual small pinging and humming noises as the monitors turned on and the external cameras began feeding information into them. All was well for about a minute, when a motion on the right-hand screen caught his eye:

It was a crudely drawn and animated gif, though clearly it represented none other than the black Gundam from which he'd borrowed his parts. Frowning, Heero's hands flew over the controls which would make the gif disappear. This only caused another to pop up right next to it. Both mini Gundams set to twirling about and wagging their beam scythes at him in a rather aggravating manner. Heero glared at them and jabbed at the computer again, which only caused more to appear. They spread exponentially across his entire field of vision, and once he could see nothing but twirling, frolicking Gundams, the music started.

It was a combination of outdated Japanese and incredibly mangled English, flowing over an outrageously hideous techno beat, and it suited the dancing, spinning mini-Gundams perfectly. Irritated and more than a little concerned, Heero quickly assessed the extent of the devastation. Thankfully, the virus only appeared to be affecting the computer in charge of relaying information from the external cameras into the cockpit - he quickly found the source of the disturbing, dancing, miniature Gods of Death, and attempted to delete it. However, this only caused a window to open on the main view-screen, which began playing a pre-recorded video.

In the center of the window was a smirking Duo, who waggled a finger impertinently at Heero. "Now really, is this how you repay the guy who got you out of that hospital? Tsk tsk." He affected a piteous expression and shook his head sadly for a moment before leaning back in his chair, smirking once more. "I'm sure you'll think twice before you underestimate Shinigami again, my friend. Since I'm such a nice guy, I'm going to give you the password to switch off the virus, but until you can figure out a way to remove it, you're going to have to enter the password every time you get in your Gundam. Now pay attention, because this is the only time you're going to see this message."

Duo's face disappeared, replaced with a black screen. White letters appeared one by one, as if typed infinitely slowly on purpose:

PASSWORD: Deathscythe Rules

The password blinked several times once it was fully typed onto the screen. Heero blanched, but entered the password. As if by magic, the hideous music stopped and all the chibi Gundams disappeared, leaving his viewing screens clear once more, except for the main one. Duo's face appeared once more, and he was grinning maddingly. "Lovely doing business with you, I hope to see you again. Shinigami out." So saying, Duo flashed a peace-sign and a 100 watt grin at Heero, then the screen went black and then disappeared.

Heero glared at the place where Duo's face had been but moments before, then snorted mirthfully. So there was something more to the other Gundam pilot than just loud, obnoxious chatter after all. Maybe he wouldn't kill him the next time they met.

Maybe.

The End

Author's Notes I've wanted to do little side-stories like this for a very long time now, and I finally sat down and got started a few weekends ago, by re-watching some of the first episodes of _Gundam Wing_ and taking detailed notes. I hope to add more to this as time goes on. We'll see what happens.


	2. Domestic Disaster

**Operation Meteor**  
Operation #02 Domestic Difficulties  
March 15, 2005 This story takes place during Episode 06 

"So it looks like there are five of us," Quatre said softly, staring at the glowing screen that was displaying a complicated-looking schematics. "I want to meet them all," He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly.

He was startled out of his reverie by Rasid, who entered his room after a cursory knock at the door. "Quatre-sama, what are you doing sitting here in the dark? You're going to ruin your eyes," the tall mercenary said, glowering down at the young man for a moment, before sweeping past the desk at which Quatre sat and pulling back the shades, flooding the room with warm, mid-morning sunlight. "Come join us for breakfast, Quatre-sama," Rasid said, putting his hand on the back of Quatre's chair to enforce the issue.

"Allright, I'm coming," Quatre said easily, leaning over briefly to switch off the monitor of his computer. He then stood, and allowed Rasid to lead him out of the room.

* * *

"Quatre-sama! Good morning!"

"Good morning, Quatre-sama!"

The usual dissonant chorus of morning greetings filled the dining area as those Maguanacs who were not on duty at this hour looked up from their breakfast to greet the young master.

"Good morning, everyone," Quatre smiled to the group. After returning the grin, the twenty-something men who occupied the dining hall turned back to their food and conversations. Quatre and Rasid made their way around the perimiter to the three coffee kegs, which were labled "Strong", "Stronger", and "Take the skin from the roof of your mouth". Quatre moved to the third one and stuck a clean mug under the tap, filling it near to the brim with the dark, aromatic liquid. Behind him, Rasid frowned.

"Quatre-sama, all this coffee is going to stunt your growth,"

"Nonsense, Rasid, or have you forgotten that you yourself grew up drinking this?" Quatre grinned up at the tall Mercenary, who offered him a disgruntled look as a response. However, he too filled a cup with the same potent liquid as Quatre, and together they both moved to where the food was being served.

Breakfast was standard military fare, its only noteworthy quality being that it filled the hole in one's belly. Quatre ate his food and drank his cofee as various Maguanacs drifted by the table he shared with Rasid to say hello or to chat a bit.

After he had finished eating, Quatre stared contemplativly into his nearly-empty mug and sighed. Unlike the other Maguanacs, he had very little with which to occupy himself. Today was going to be just like yesterday, and the day before. Long, bleak, and boring.

"What's wrong, Quatre-sama?" Rasid asked, hearing Quatre's discontented sigh.

"Nothing, really. I just feel kind of useless right now, is all," Quatre responded, looking up at Rasid with a smile softening his gentle features.

Rasid hesitated, then cleared his throat. "If you're lacking for anything to do, I think perhaps the kitchen staff might appreciate an extra pair of hands," he suggested cautiously, ready to amend his suggestion lest Quatre take it the wrong way. However, the young man returned to staring contemplatively at his coffee for a moment, then returned his gaze to Rasid.

"You know, that sounds like a good idea!" he said, enthusiasm coloring his voice. Grinning, he finished the last of his now luke-warm coffee in three swallows, then grabbed his empty tray and hurried off to the kitchen. Rasid watched him go, and felt a sudden shiver run up his spine. What was this sudden sense of foreboding? He shook his head. Nothing, no doubt. Gathering his own empty dishware, he stood to follow Quatre to the kitchen.

* * *

"Quatre-sama, this is a surprise!" the head cook, a Maguanac man by the name of Fahad, said.

"I hope it's not an inconvinence...?" Quatre said, wringing his hands slightly.

"No, no, not at all! Quite the contrary, in fact! Here, let's get you an apron and you can start in on washing the dishes," Fahad matched actions to words and quickly procured a clean (if a bit stained) white apron for Quatre, who happily tied it on, and set off to the sinks where two other men were working.

As Fahad watched him go, he expirenced the same quiet foreboding which had bothered Rasid not moments before. Shaking his head and dismissing the notion, he returned to his other duties.

As it turned out, Quatre was not the type of person one would trust to wash the family china. Nor was he the the type of person one would normally trust to wash the regular china, if it came to that. Fortunately for the Maguanacs, their china consisted of military issue metal plates and bowls, which did not break easily.

"I'm sorry about the mess, I'll clean it up!" Quatre chirpped cheerfully, retrieving a mop and bucket from the storage closet. Fahad watched with growing aprehension as the young man, nealy soaked through from head to foot despite the heavy apron, made his way back to the sinks to clean up the spillage his enthusiastic dish-washing had caused.

Mopping did not seem to be something Quatre knew how to do very well either, and more than once Fahad had to rescue a pile of plates from the wildly swinging mop handle. There were a few times he missed though, despite his best efforts, and several plates went flying across the kitchen to smack into the far wall.

Before this day, Fahad would have assumed that the sturdy dishes used by the mercenary group would not dent easily as well, but after a morning spent in the inept if willing hands of the small blonde Gundam pilot, he had had to change that particular assesment.

"There!" Smiling at his successful mopping of the floor, Quatre turned back to Fahad, who was staring at him a little dazedly. "Are there any other chores you need me to do?"

"No, Quatre-sama, I think we can handle it from here on out." Grimacing inwardly, Fahad offered a silent prayer for forgiveness for the lie. Though on reflection, it wasn't truely a lie...Because while he did have other chores that could use a willing hand, he had no more which he felt safe assigning to Quatre.

"Oh...okay," For a moment, Quatre seemed disappointed, but just as quickly brightened. "I'll go see if Kareem needs any help!" So saying, the young man untied his thoroughly soaked apron, set it carefully on the counter, and turned to leave, humming happily. Fahad and his two helpers watched him go, and Fahad uttered another silent prayer, this time for Kareem.

* * *

Kareem was a good man, if a bit lazy. He had things he wanted to be doing, and while he personally thought those things were important, Rasid had begged to differ. Thus, he turned to the piles of laundry with which he had been charged to wash with a somewhat less-than-enthusiastic sigh, shrugging off the nagging feeling of aprehension that had settled in the pit of his stomach, dismissing it for simple dislike for an unpleasant task. Thus, he was highly delighted when he heard his name called. Joy and rapture, blessed distraction!

"Quatre-sama! What can I do for you?" Kareem smiled at the exuberant if...slightly damp youth.

"I wanted to know if you needed any help with anything!" Quatre said with a happy smile. Kareem stared at Quatre for a moment, surprised, then returned Quatre's smile with a grin of his own.

"As a matter of fact..."

Quatre read the laundry detergent's instructions carefully, not wanting to screw up. "Half a scoop for large loads...and this is a large load..." he glanced momentarily at the washing machine he had stuffed full of dirty laundry. "Doesn't seem like enough..." Decision made, he dumped the full scoop in on top of the load of fabric, shut the lid of the machine, and turned the dial to start. "This is kind of fun!" Smiling happily, he moved onto the next machine, and the next laundry basket.

Finished with starting the washing machines, Quatre wandered away from the laundry area in search of some other soul in need of his aid. How come he'd never done household chores before? No one had ever told him how much fun it was! His wandering took him past the small vegetable garden Abdul had started, so he wandered in.

* * *

"Are you lost, Quatre-sama?" Abdul asked, stepping out from behind a large tomato-bearing vine. 

Quatre laughed. "I was actually wondering if you needed any help, Abdul," he said, smiling sweetly.

"Is that so?" Abdul said, looking at Quatre thoughtfully. "Here, you can help me weed the potatos," Turning, he gestured with a hand, and Quatre obediently followed.

"This, this, and this," Abdul said, tugging each of the offending bits of plant matter from the ground with a practiced twist of his wrist, "are weeds." he showed them to Quatre. "this," he said, pointing to a slightly different plant with a small white flower, "Is a potato. They're not ready to come out of the ground yet, so leave them alone. Got it?"

Quatre carefully studied the weeds Abdul held in his hand and the potatos still in the ground. "I think so. It's like a search sweep."

"Is that so?" Abdul raised an amused eyebrow and waited for the younger man to continue.

"These are the civilian establishments, and these are the enemy OZ battalions!" Bending down, Quatre took hold of one of the weeds and tugged, but it stayed firmly in the ground.

"Grab it at the base like this, Quatre-sama," Abdul said, bending down next to the blonde boy and demonstrating. The weed came up easily in his hand. Quatre did as he was told, and successfully uprooted his own weed.

"Good!" Abdul said, grinning. Quatre smiled back happily, then returned his attention to the potato patch.

* * *

"What did I do to deserve this...?" Kareem muttered under his breath about an hour later. He had returned to the laundry room to check on Quatre's progress, and while Quatre himself was no where in sight, a very visible layer of white soap bubbles was. From one end of the by no means small laundry room to the other, a knee-high layer of foam hid the floor from sight. Wading through the mess, Kareem carefully opened the lid of the first washing machine he came to, and let out a groan. This was where his laziness had gotten him. Now, not only did he and twenty other men have bright pink underwear, he also had to clean up the soap mess and re-launder the clothes to get the soap out.

* * *

"Quatre-sama, there you are!" Rasid said, drawing even with the blond boy, who was walking with Abdul. He did a double-take as he saw that Quatre was covered from head to foot in a fine layer of dirt, and his knees, stomach, elbows and hands had taken on a fine, mud-brown color. "what have you been doing?" Rasid asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Quatre so soiled.

"Helping Abdul in the garden! It was so much fun!" Quatre smiled happily up at Rasid, who suddenly expirenced a momentary bout of difficulty keeping his customary frown pressed into his features.

"I...see. Well, then, Quatre-sama, perhaps you might like a nice hot shower,"

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Rasid. I think I will." So saying, Quatre bowed to both men and walked merrily back to his quarters.

Rasid looked at Abdul with a questioning expression on his face, and the other man just grinned and shrugged. Rasid shook his head and walked away.

Later that afternoon, row upon row of freshly laundered clothing undulated gently in the warm desert breeze, and half of the Maguanac Corps was soon making fun of the other half, on account of their clean, bright-pink underwear.

To be continued

Author's Notes: This story focused on Quatre, both because I could think of nothing really interesting for Duo to do and also because I hardly ever write about Quatre. I can't wait for the bit where Duo crashes with Quatre and the Maguanacs though...Quatre alone is an accident waiting to happen, but with Duo as a guiding force, those two could rule the world! XD

I always figured Quatre would not be to good with household chores...he's the youngest child of one of the wealthiest families in the Earth Sphere...there's no way anyone would make him do chores. Thus, he has no idea what he's doing. But he's also not stupid, so if he's got someone to show him what to do, I'm sure he'd be just fine.


End file.
